Red Dead Repeater
by Santo Caballero
Summary: Despite his parents' efforts to keep him from the life of criminality, Jack Marston now leads the most dangerous and ruthless gang in the United States. World War I rages in Europe, and the new Mexican president is about to make a treacherous descision.
1. The Hunters and the Hunted

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but the original characters I created for this story. Red Dead Redemption's characters, settings, weapons, tools, and everything else related to the game belong to their respectable owners. **

Chapter I - The Hunters and the Hunted

_November 28, 1916_

The autumn air of late November had swept over West Elizabeth. The atmosphere was chilled, yet not cold. It was uncomfortable, at best.

The "modernization" of the West was rapidly spreading across the state. The use of the automobile was becoming as common as the horse. And with the bringing of "civilization" to these lands, the native wildlife slowly began to suffer. Buffalo had become a scarce sight…even on the Great Plains. And as the population of elk, deer, and other important herbivores in the region decreased, so did the population of other carnivores such as bears or wolves. The old ways of honor and respect for nature were quickly disintegrating.

And with this fading of the old ways came the civil unrest of West Elizabeth's Native American population. Crushed by their defeat during the reign of Dutch van der Linde (who had rallied the natives and battled the spread of "civilization" during 1911), the Native Americans recuperated and rebuilt their stronghold at Chochinay under the leadership of a mysterious man whom the white folk of the state had come to call the "Savage Ghost". Under the guidance of this "Savage Ghost", the natives ignited a brutal guerilla war against Federal forces and white inhabitants. Thus began another fraction of the American Indian Wars in West Elizabeth.

Yet the city of Blackwater continued to bustle, despite the chaotic conflicts that surrounded it. The clicking of hooves against the streets, the sounds of the automobiles' roaring engines, and the bellowing of various machines filled the air. The high-pitched voice of the local newspaper boy informed the people of the Blackwater Ledger's latest headlines.

"Extra! Extra! Read all about it! Jack Marston's gang terrorizes the South! Extra!"

The Blackwater Saloon was full of life, as usual. On the outside, a small group of four played an intensive game of poker under the veranda. On the inside, Saloon regulars drank and conversed with one another as a trio of eastern men engaged in a competitive round of blackjack.

The shops surrounding the saloon were just as busy. More and more easterners flooded the city every day, many of them belonging to the high class. Children played, adults chatted, and various merchants advertised their goods.

But inside the Blackwater Police Station, everything was relatively quiet. BOI Agents Archer Fordham and Howard Sawicki paced about their office on the second floor.

"So these suspects," Agent Sawicki began. "Who are they?"

Fordham dropped three separate documents onto his desk. "John Marston, Junior," he said, pointing to the first document. "Twenty-one years old; son of John Marston, Senior and Abigail Marston. He's followed his father's footsteps, becoming the country's most notorious bank robber. We should've killed him back in 1911."

Sawicki nodded. "I remember that kid." he stated. "He was searching for Edgar Ross a couple years back."

"And 'coincidentally', Ross's corpse was found drifting down the San Louis just a day later."

"He wanted revenge."

Archer shook his head. "And he got it." he whispered. "And now, he's the most feared criminal in the nation."

"And who are our other two suspects?" Sawicki asked.

Fordham pointed to the second document on the desk. "Isaac Cain, twenty-four; son of a wealthy Jewish banker from Massachusetts. He became a fugitive at age eighteen and fled south in his attempt to evade authorities. He most likely joined Marston's gang during late 1914."

"Who's our third guy?"

"I was just getting to that, Agent Sawicki." Fordham murmured with irritation as he pointed to the third document. "Jacinto Ladrones, twenty-six; a Mexican revolutionary and former supporter of Abraham Reyes, he fled Mexico in opposition of Reyes' ruling practices after President Ignacio Sánchez was overthrown. He gave up everything he had in his country by crossing that border."

Sawicki chuckled half-heartedly. "Well, isn't that an interesting little trio?"

"Hardly. They are suspected to have robbed up to twenty-seven banks and twelve trains in a matter of two years. They operate across the entire southern region of the United States. Alabama, Arkansas, Louisiana, Mississippi, New Austin, Oklahoma, Texas, West Elizabeth – everywhere. These pieces of shit have nothing to lose. They've got no friends and no family; just each other. And they're not planning to stop these filthy raids until they've got all the money in the nation."

"So what do we do?" Howard asked. "We've got no leads on their location."

"The government's given us everything we need." Archer stated. "Even the Army is at our disposal. Now, we only must wait for Marston and his gang to make the next move. It may take a few hours, it may take a few days. But patience always wins the battle."

_Meanwhile..._

Like a monster one would find in a nightmare, a locomotive heading from Armadillo to Blackwater spit repulsive amounts of black smoke into the sky through its smokestack. The engine hauled six railway cars over the tracks. One of these cars was armored and had its valuable cargo sealed from all unauthorized personnel. Two lawmen were situated inside the passenger car, each armed with Henry repeaters.

The train roared into the blackened tunnel in Cholla Springs near Armadillo. The darkness slowly consumed each of the railway cars one by one. The passenger car was filled to its limits with travelers. Tension levels began to rise as the train entered the tunnel.

Two men sitting beside each other in the car conversed with one another as the train made its way farther into the tunnel. "Hey," one of them said. "They say there's some 'valuable cargo' or somethin' in that armored car back there."

"It's money." a third passenger stated, butting into the conversation. "It's a shitload of money. That's why they've got them lawmen here to keep it safe from thieves."

Suddenly, the train itself jolted. It came to a quick, screeching halt that threw every passenger on the train forward. Many let out screams. Others barked orders at one another or began asking questions. A select few just began shouting nonsense.

"Get down! Get down!"

"What the fuck was that?"

"Why have we stopped?"

"Move your ass!"

"Get away from me!"

"Hey, look out the window!"

"We're all gonna die!"

One of the lawmen, a middle-aged man with a thick mustache, approached the front of the car. He cautiously exited the railway vehicle and peaked over the tender. "Shit!" he whispered to his comrade, being careful to stay quiet in order to avoid alerting the passengers.

"What is it?" the other lawman asked.

"The engineers are missin'. Somethin's goin' on. Get ready."

Suddenly, the loud, deep neighing of a horse rang throughout the tunnel. The sound was followed by the beating of hooves against the cold ground. The passengers began screaming. Each of the lawmen stepped back into the passenger car. "Now hold on, everybody!" one of them shouted. "Everything's going to be fine! Let's all just stay-"

The lawman was interrupted as a man wearing a black bandana over his face swung down from the roof of the car by a rope and kicked him in the back, shooting him in the head with a semi-auto pistol. The second lawman raised his rifle to shoot before the masked assailant fired a bullet through his skull as well.

The passengers went into a state of panic. But their cries were silenced when the masked assailant raised his pistol and fired at the ceiling. "EVERYONE GET DOWN AND STAY QUIET!" he ordered in a slight Mexican accent. "If any of you dare to move, speak, or resist, you will be shot!"

The sounds of the horses and the hoofbeats became more clear now. Two other men wearing bandanas rode past the passenger car on each side of the train, heading towards the armored railway car near the caboose. One of them slowed his horse and subsequently lit a lantern he had been carrying. He dismounted and hurriedly climbed onto the train, quickly scaling the ladder leading to the top of the armored railway car. The metal hatch on top of the car that led to the interior was sealed. The masked man quickly planted a stick of dynamite onto the hatch and lit the fuse. He leaped from the top of car to the ground as the fuse sparkled.

After a few more seconds, the dynamite exploded, blasting the metal hatch into oblivion.

The explosion caused the passengers inside the passenger car to enter another state of panic. The assailant keeping watch over them fired another bullet at the ceiling. "I said to stay quiet!" he bellowed.

Meanwhile, the two men at the armored car, one of them still carrying the lantern, each climbed to the top of the battered railway car and hopped inside. The car contained a massive amount of money. The men wasted no time. They each pulled out large bags from their coats and began shoving the loads of money into them. In less than five minutes, they reemerged into the tunnel. Hopping to the ground, they each whistled for their horses. After remounting, one of them called to the assailant in the passenger car. "OKAY, WE'RE READY TO MOVE!"

The assailant in the passenger car quickly hopped off of the train onto his own horse, leaving the passengers to cry in fear. The three robbers met up near the engine and bolted towards the other end of the tunnel. The galloping of their horses' hooves could be heard from the train up until they exited the tunnel itself.

Outside, a detonator box with wires leading back into the tunnel was hidden behind a large boulder at the edge of the mountain. One of the masked assailants dismounted his horse and jogged towards the box. After a moment of preparation, he pressed down on the lever.

The dynamite that had been planted on the tracks inside the tunnel before the train arrived detonated underneath the train. The explosion was massive, immediately killing every passenger inside the tunnel. The earth began to shake. The explosion was causing the tunnel to collapse at a rapid pace. By the time the dust had cleared, the channel was completely caved in, and the three masked men were already a mile away.

Jack Marston's gang had struck again.


	2. Foundations of Criminality

**Hey guys! Santo here with another chapter! Enjoy! And please make comments, suggestions, and everything else! :)**

Chapter II - Foundations of Criminality

Days had passed. Each individual person on the train in New Austin symbolized a family that now wept over a deceased relative. The tunnel had caved. Bodies would not be recovered for a long time. Already, posses were being assembled within every settlement in New Austin. Husbands, fathers, sons, brothers, friends. But what was the use? The Marston Gang had not been caught yet. They had managed to maneuver themselves through every obstacle they'd encountered thus far. Yet the people's quest for revenge was greater now than it had ever been before.

With the dawn of December, the climate only grew colder. The air became dry and was beginning to collect its moisture from the rivers and lakes. Soon enough, this moisture would convert into snow, and the brutal winter season would pound the civilians of both New Austin and West Elizabeth.

A thin layer of fog had spread over Lake Don Julio. The moon's illumination of the night could not be seen. It was cold. It was dark. It was silent. The cabin that sat upon the edge of the lake was the only place of life in the region. Three men on horseback galloped down the hill that led to the building. At the head of the trio - Jack Marston. His brown eyes blended with the darkness of the night. Yet each individual bullet in his bandolier shined, along with his spurs which chinked against the torso of his American Standardbred horse. His bold scowl was enhanced by his thin mustache, soul patch, and long sideburns. Jack still knew emotion and empathy, yet not much of it. His mother, his father, his beloved sister - all dead, buried, and lost forever in the waves of history. A piece of his old self still remained deep inside, crying desperately to escape. But Jack's depression and lack of social skills kept that old personality imprisoned.

Behind Jack - Jacinto Ladrones. Jacinto, a man who sacrificed everything he had for the Mexican Revolution. Jacinto, a man who lost his wife and newborn daughter to the soldiers of Agustin Allende. Jacinto, a man who was betrayed by the sole leader of the rebellion - Abraham Reyes. Ladrones vowed revenge on this new "revolutionary" Mexican president who had been corrupted by power. President Reyes was no better than the Devil in his eyes. Every life lost in the revolution was lost for nothing. Reyes ruled with the same ideals as his predecessor, Ignacio Sanchez. Only two passions remained in Jacinto's heart; his loyalty towards Jack Marston, and his urge to evoke revenge upon President Abraham Reyes of Mexico.

Jacinto's face had been locked into a grimace ever since he fled his country for the United States. His past had washed all emotion from his eyes. They were like stones - dark and lifeless. His face remained but a shadow beneath his sombrero in the night.

Riding at the back - Isaac Cain. He was seemingly placed on the earth only to cause chaos and utter mayhem. Cain was born into wealth and was raised like a prince. He had no reason or driving force behind his complete brutality. A loving mother, a caring and hard-working father, and an endless supply of servants to obey his family's every command. Cain became tangled into the world of sin far earlier than anyone could imagine. Theft, smuggling, alcohol, sex - all of it slowly pushed him away from his life of regality. The young Isaac fled his family's estate in Massachusetts at age eighteen. His unnatural talent in the ways of the gunslinger earned him a place in the dying West. It earned him a place in the Marston Gang.

His dark gray eyes symbolized all the madness the world could capacitate. His handsome features - high cheekbones, thick dark hair, straight snow-white teeth - fit his arrogant persona like a puzzle piece.

They reared their horses before the cabin. The beasts' whinnies were answered by a cold gust of wind from the lake. In a few moments, the steeds were hitched. Nodding to his companions, Jack approached the cabin's door. He was followed closely by Jacinto and Isaac. Their spurs chinked with every step.

Jack threw the door open. The three stepped inside. The cabin was weakly lit by a few candles scattered about the tables and dressers, yet it remained generally dark. The room was organized in every way. It was symmetrical. Rifles, game trophies, and paintings hung perfectly level on the walls. Equal amounts of furniture had been placed on each side of the room. The sheets on the bed were perfectly smoothed. To move one object would upset the balance of the cabin's entire atmosphere.

"I expected you to arrive sooner." a voice murmured from the shadowed back of the room. The voice was deep, monotonic, and possessed a raspy sound. But it was quiet and almost difficult to understand.

"Your expectations were too high." Jack quickly responded. He tossed a sack onto the table. Small stacks of money poured out of it as it landed. "Your cut."

The man sitting at the table leaned forward, partly revealing his face which was still halfway concealed by his hat and the shadows. He had the facial structure of an ape. And his thick, graying mustache partially covered his upper lip. Braxton Bell - New Austin's most notorious overseer of crime. He supplied arms to over 50 criminal gangs in the West (including the Marston Gang), and had connections with the provincial governor of Nuevo Paraiso, Bernardo Mendoza. "Fifty percent?" came his low, monotonic voice.

"Twenty-five." Jack replied firmly. "You lied. You promised there'd be no civilians onboard the train."

Braxton frowned. His bright blue eyes now shined in the light of the candles. They were ablaze. "I gave you the plan." he snarled. "You carried it out. It is quite simple, really. Without a plan, there is no job. Without the job, the plan is useless. Fifty-fifty."

"Yeah, well now we've got every posse in the fucking state on our asses!" Isaac snapped.

Braxton leaned back in his chair and folded his hands on his slim chest. "Gentlemen, I don't ask much of you. I give you the plans, I supply you with the weapons, and I promise you my protection. All I ask from you in return is fifty percent of the profit."

"You lied." Jack repeated. "And that last plan of yours was sloppy! Anythin' coulda happened!"

"But you got the job done." the man shot back. "And that's all that matters. The tunnel caved when you detonated the dynamite. It buried every bit of evidence that damned Bureau could've found. The posses will die away eventually. Now…I want my cut."

Jack reluctantly complied after a moment of silence - a moment of resistance. As a second portion of money was laid out on the table, a sly grin appeared on Braxton's aging face. "That was our last job." Jack murmured. "We came here to cut ties for good. We're done."

Marston turned to leave with his two angered comrades. He barely had time to open the door before the clicking of a revolver's hammer stopped him. "I wouldn't do that if I was you." came Braxton's silky voice.

Jack spun around, along with Jacinto and Isaac, to find Bell's gun barrel pointed in their direction. "Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"I'm the king of this fuckin' state!" Braxton replied. He was raising his voice - a rare occurrence. "People don't just walk away from me. They serve me for life. You and your two friends here pledged your eternal allegiance to me the second you agreed to the first job."

Isaac had his Schofield revolver drawn in a mere second. "Fuck you."

"Isaac!" Jack exclaimed. Jacinto grabbed Isaac's arm and forcefully lowered the gun.

"No, fuck you, you little shit." Braxton growled at Isaac. "What? You think you'll just walk away from here after killin' me? You think nothin' will happen? You'll just continue to live your bullshit lives while I rot in a grave? You kill me, and you've got every gang in the West on your asses. The three of ya are mine."

"We are no dogs." Jacinto cut in. It was the first time he had spoken throughout the entire ordeal.

"You sure as shit are. And I'll have all of ya butchered if I suspect somethin' like this will happen again. Now…get the fuck out of here."

Reluctantly, the trio complied. It was humiliating. It was degrading. But what were they to do?

The Marston Gang was about to encounter a conflict that would alter their lives forever.


End file.
